Whimsical, inventive, and frightening
I found myself with an unexpected free night, so on a whim I went to see "Where The Wild Things Are" at the dollar theater. I had heard so many things about it - how it perfectly brought the book to life, how it showed many raw emotions of childhood, and was overall a movie that was remarkable in it's uniqueness. I settled down into my seat, but when the credits rolled I found that I was disappointed. The film was much darker than I had expected. No family fare here; it was a children's film for adults, or at least aimed more towards an older crowd. I had expected scenes with inviting colors; a land from a child's vivid imagination. Instead the landscape and creatures were all varying shades of brown and grey. Yet when I recall the book I can consent that they probably kept the colors of the film true to the original illustrations.
What caught me off guard though was the intense, frightening moments. The film portrayed fear, loneliness, abandonment, and brokenness that grasps children in small things but is ever leering in the shadows as adults. Funny-looking, bumbling Wild Things were bearers of such emotions, exemplifying and magnifying what the little boy - Max - felt. It was clever, but it was also dark and frightening. The Wild Things punched holes in trees and put themselves and others down. They argued and fought, and threatened to eat Max, and he in his childish way tried to calm them and make everything right. The Wild Things wanted the audience to both laugh at them and empathize with them. I love the concept, but the heaviness throughout the movie outweighed - for me - that of the attempted message. Even the fort they built - a colossal structure of woven branches that rose in whimsical twists and boasted an underground tunnel - was beautiful but too much for a child. It seemed intimidating. When one of the Wild Things pulled another one's arm off I was squirming in my seat, even with the air of humor and lightness they portrayed: "That was my favorite arm!" the hurt Wild Thing complains. The next few scenes showed the hurt Wild Thing with a twig in place of his missing limb. I found it painful instead of amusing.
I left the theater not knowing quite how I felt about the movie. It was definitely different and inventive. What was perhaps most different about the film was that it left a lot of loose ends. It didn't wrap the ending up in a pretty bow, as expected from a movie derived from a children's book. The Wild Things are left only slightly less confused as before, waving goodbye to Max, their short-time king, two of them giving much-longed-for hugs, but with looks overall on their faces as though they have no idea what they will do when Max's boat sails out of sight. Back in the real world, Max is hugged by his worried mother, who looks on him with love as he eats his dinner, but never does his sister show up for a needed reconciliation. Then again, the book itself has Max sail away from the Wild Things almost haughtily, returning to his own bed and his own dinner which is provided by his unseen parents. There is no real lesson learned, and therefore no reconciliation or cozy wrap-up, in the short children's book.
In all, it was a creative effort, but it won't be a favorite for me. It left me wishing that the Wild Things had found without a doubt the happiness and security they so craved. It left me wanting to paint bright colors in a world of brown and grey. But then again, if the longing for such things can stir one to make a difference, and help others find happiness and security, pushing back the wild feelings of fear and loneliness, then I can accept that as a good point for a movie different from one I've ever seen before.
What caught me off guard though was the intense, frightening moments. The film portrayed fear, loneliness, abandonment, and brokenness that grasps children in small things but is ever leering in the shadows as adults. Funny-looking, bumbling Wild Things were bearers of such emotions, exemplifying and magnifying what the little boy - Max - felt. It was clever, but it was also dark and frightening. The Wild Things punched holes in trees and put themselves and others down. They argued and fought, and threatened to eat Max, and he in his childish way tried to calm them and make everything right. The Wild Things wanted the audience to both laugh at them and empathize with them. I love the concept, but the heaviness throughout the movie outweighed - for me - that of the attempted message. Even the fort they built - a colossal structure of woven branches that rose in whimsical twists and boasted an underground tunnel - was beautiful but too much for a child. It seemed intimidating. When one of the Wild Things pulled another one's arm off I was squirming in my seat, even with the air of humor and lightness they portrayed: "That was my favorite arm!" the hurt Wild Thing complains. The next few scenes showed the hurt Wild Thing with a twig in place of his missing limb. I found it painful instead of amusing.
I left the theater not knowing quite how I felt about the movie. It was definitely different and inventive. What was perhaps most different about the film was that it left a lot of loose ends. It didn't wrap the ending up in a pretty bow, as expected from a movie derived from a children's book. The Wild Things are left only slightly less confused as before, waving goodbye to Max, their short-time king, two of them giving much-longed-for hugs, but with looks overall on their faces as though they have no idea what they will do when Max's boat sails out of sight. Back in the real world, Max is hugged by his worried mother, who looks on him with love as he eats his dinner, but never does his sister show up for a needed reconciliation. Then again, the book itself has Max sail away from the Wild Things almost haughtily, returning to his own bed and his own dinner which is provided by his unseen parents. There is no real lesson learned, and therefore no reconciliation or cozy wrap-up, in the short children's book.
In all, it was a creative effort, but it won't be a favorite for me. It left me wishing that the Wild Things had found without a doubt the happiness and security they so craved. It left me wanting to paint bright colors in a world of brown and grey. But then again, if the longing for such things can stir one to make a difference, and help others find happiness and security, pushing back the wild feelings of fear and loneliness, then I can accept that as a good point for a movie different from one I've ever seen before.
Comments